


Feathers on Snow

by Rapis_Razuri



Series: Blossoms & Brynhildr [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, LeoSaku Week 2016, Non-Explicit Sex, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapis_Razuri/pseuds/Rapis_Razuri
Summary: She watches him looking at her wings, seeing the missing feathers on her wings and patches of skin on her body. Her legs are unsteady, making her sway as she takes a step forward, towards and away from him. "I wanted to be with you forever, but now that you know… I can't stay."[LeoSaku Week Day 7: Writer's Choice]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Writer’s Choice  
> Word Count: 1834  
> Notes: Fairytale AU. Based off the Japanese folktale _Tsuru no Ongaeshi_ , though I borrowed a few details from the Vocaloid song “Seasonal Feathers” (which is based off the same story)

Her hands are weak, brittle and frail. Every shaky touch of coin sends a jolt of pain from her fingertips to her spine. She bites her lip to hold back her tears, determined to not let how much she is hurting show as she counts.

The cloth merchant smiles patiently, his eyes sympathetic. She has come to love him and his wife for being her best customers. They could have taken advantage of her desperation, given her far less than what her feathers and blood was worth, but they were _fair_ and she loves them for it.

She places the last coin on the pile. It takes a while for her count to sink in and when it does, she lets go of the breath she has been holding. _I did it_ , she thinks. “I-I… I _did_ it,” she says. Her throat tightens. The tears that she couldn’t keep back were not out of pain or grief, but out of sheer, unadulterated relief. She made it in time after all.

The merchant’s wife reaches forward and gently strokes her back. It reminds her of her days as a hatchling, when her mother’s wingbeats were a promise of food and her body to keep her warm. The older woman places a package in her lap. _Food_. It smells delicious. “A little something my daughter and I wanted to do for you,” she explains. “You look like you haven’t eaten properly in _months_ , dear.”

She swallows down the truth, but accepts the woman’s offering with a smile. She dries her tears on her sleeve and bows low to the couple when she leaves their shop.

She feels light. Not light enough to fly, but she might as well be.

* * *

“ _Whoa! Easy there… Easy there… I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m not going to hurt you… You’re not going to get out of this mess by trashing about you know?”_

* * *

The medicine does wonders for him. He is still too weak to go far from his bed, but his health improves every day. Too soon for him to leave their home, he manages a few hours a day in the sun and she leaves her loom to spend those hours with him.

“I missed holding you like this…” he says. She giggles and cuddles closer to him in response and rests her head against his collar. He shifts slightly and uses his other hand to cradle her smaller one. She lifts her head up and sees his brow furrowed in worry as he examines her hand. “Sakura...”

“W-what is it, Leo?”

He kisses her still bandaged hand, acknowledging the sacrifice she made for him, though to what degree he has no idea. “You’re still at it aren’t you?” he asks softly, “Even in my fever, I could hear you working endlessly on that loom.”

Sakura lowers her eyes. “You were going to die,” she whispered, “There was no other way to get you the medicine you needed.”

Leo grunts. “And you got it. Why are you still weaving like you haven’t?”

She bites her lip. “What if you get sick again?”

“I won’t.” He sounds so _sure_. Sakura doesn’t believe it will _never_ happen again, but she agrees to stop.

“But only for a while,” she adds, smiling. “I want to help.” _I should let my feathers grow back, but I don’t want to be a burden_. “E-everyone says the silk I weave is beautiful. They like it.”

“Of course they do.” He runs his fingers through her hair. It's soothing, she thinks, and it reminds her of how he had once so gently handled her when she got caught in a hunter’s trap. “You could make your own living with your weaving, travel to other places, and yet you still stay here with me…”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asks. Cranes mated for life, why not humans too? “I love you.”

He stares at her in wonder - and chuckles. “Gods… What did I ever do to deserve you?” His hand falls to hold her jaw and he tilts her face up. Sakura laughs softly and welcomes his kiss with an eager smile.

 _All you did was take pity on a fallen crane and helped it out of the goodness of your heart_.

* * *

“ _I-I’m s-sorry, but… I-I got lost a-and I… w-well I...”_

“ _...Need a place to stay?”_

“ _Y-yes… J-just until the s-snow stops falling...”_

“ _There’s no one else who lives here… I don’t see why not.”_

* * *

They couple once after his full recovery. Their garments are discarded one after another. He nips playfully at her neck and then his mouth trails kisses over her flesh. She feels exposed without her plumage, even more so without the clothes she wears as a substitute, but he is just as uncovered and she feels safe with him.

His touch makes her sing, a cry meant for no one except for him to hear. He tells her she has a sweet voice and gods, how he loves it when she says his name. Sometimes his still ink-stained hands leave little black streaks on her pale skin. He apologizes for that, but she tells him she doesn't mind.

Kissing her tenderly on the lips, he joins them together. There is nothing between them, just skin against skin. She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head against his. His breath against the back of her neck, panting with every thrust of her hips. It is not the dance of wings in the snow, not the dance she used to watch her brothers and sisters perform with their mates, but it is _their_ dance and she loves everything about it.

After it is done, Sakura snuggles close to him, their legs in a tangle as she rests her ear against his chest. She could feel his heart and its rhythm, getting stronger every day, is her favorite thing to hear.

“I love you,” Leo whispers as she falls asleep, “Stay with me forever...”

* * *

“ _I don't particularly care for heights.”_

“ _Y-you don't?_

“ _No. I had a rather nasty fall back when I was a kid.”_

“ _That must have been terrible…”_

“ _It was, but it was a long time ago. I can climb a tree to pick fruit if I have to, but I rather keep both my feet on the ground. But to be honest… I’ve always wondered what it was like to fly.”_

* * *

She looks at herself in the candlelight. Snow-white and black, a red patch on her head, is what she is truly. Her wings spread and she sees the missing feathers. What began with her weaving the down she lost when she shook herself or preened lead to her plucking her feathers out when it proved it isn't enough.

Leo despised the loom his mother left behind when she abandoned him, but Sakura loved it immediately. She started with only thread, but the silly idea to weave her feathers through the threads is what became his lifeline and what she was known for. Now that Leo was healthy again, she receives requests for her silk and some even asks - or begs - her to take them as an apprentice.

Even if she wanted to, she could not agree. She weaves a little of herself into every length of cloth she makes. That is not something she could simply teach.

But to refuse the commissions, she has less cause. She _wants_ to stop, but then she would think about Leo suddenly coughing up blood as he copied the manuscripts by candlelight, the days she spent watching him grow weaker as she cursed herself to _work faster_ and she would be back before her loom, shaking and pulling out her feathers one by one.

And then... there is also the child to consider.

* * *

“ _P-promise me you will never watch me weave.”_

“ _That… is a strange thing to ask of me.”_

“ _I-I’m sorry, b-but you must…”_

“ _If it means so much to you… Very well. I promise that I will never watch you weave.”_

* * *

He breaks that promise.

Man and crane, shock and betrayal. They stare at each other, the realization that nothing will ever be the same reflected in each other’s eyes.

Sakura moves first. She snaps her beak shut. The threads and plume coming loose and fluttering down in silence.

Leo speaks first. “I saw blood on the silk,” he explains, shame and resignation are the scales of his voice. “You were getting weaker. There was blood on the loom and on the floor of this room too. I didn’t want to stop you, but if you were hurting yourself somehow…”

His reasonings shouldn’t matter. His _excuses_ shouldn’t matter. _You promised me, Leo,_ she wants to scream or cry, she doesn’t know. Why betray her out of concern? She should have cleaned the blood when she was done, but she has always been _too tired_. Why not look because he tasted wealth and wanted more? She trusted him that he wouldn’t look. _You_ promised _me_.

She watches him looking at her wings, seeing the missing feathers on her wings and patches of skin on her body. Unable to bare the dawning horror in his eyes when he sees the extent of her pitiful state, she shifts back into a woman. Her legs are unsteady, making her sway as she takes a step forward, towards and away from him. “I-I’m s-sorry,” she whispers, blinking back tears, “I-I w-wanted to be with you forever, but now that you know… I can’t stay.”

He doesn’t try to stop her. She’s grateful, because this departure doesn't need to be more difficult than it already is, but somewhere, secretly, she wishes that he does.

* * *

 Years pass. Autumn ends, inviting winter forth and with winter, heavy snowfall and memories of a lost maiden seeking shelter from the cold.

A feather is all he has left of her. Leo still hears the whisperings of the wife so talented at her art and so devoted to her husband that she wove herself to death for him. He lets them believe what they want, better that than admit that he drove her away in his arrogance. Thinking that he knew better, that he could break a promise he made to his beloved wife when it suited him without consequence…

Transcript and quill all but forgotten long before he hears a knock on his door. _An unexpected visitor at night. Right after the winter’s first snow_. Leo rises from his desk, eager _._

 _Too eager_ , he tells himself. _Don’t get your hopes up. She's not coming back_.

He opens the door. No, she is never coming back, but there is a boy standing shivering before him. The boy lowers his cowl, his smile so familiar that his next words are more of a confirmation than a surprise.

“Hello Father… It’s nice to meet you at last.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that concludes my submissions for LeoSaku Week 2016.  
> Thank you for reading everyone and Happy Holidays!


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